Rainforest Cliffs
anybody welcome!
HE SAYS "OH BABY GIRL, DON'T GET CUT ON MY EDGES I'M THE KING OF EVERYTHING AND MY TONGUE IS A WEAPON" He wonders what sort of sick man would proposition a young girl in the forest. The thought makes him deeply, uncontrollably angry, because he doesn't think for a second that there could be more to the story than Otem is letting on. No, his little girl can only be telling the truth, and the picture she paints is enough to incite the warlord's unholy wrath. Her question bids him to shake his head, as confused as she is. "Perhaps he did not think that telling you his name would result in any unpleasant consequences for him, given your age. It probably didn't cross his mind that you might have family who will destroy anybody that hurts you." He glances at her wound as she does, concerned. It's not serious enough to usually warrant attention, but the beast's worries are twofold - first, she is young, and the effects of such an injury might cause more damage than a similar wound would cause on himself, for example. Secondly, it concerns him that the Rift's corruption could turn a usually innocuous cut into something far more terrifying, and his mind is filled with pictures of fetid green pus, of gangrene, of infection. "We need to find somebody who can look at your wound for you. Astarot, maybe." His son is the only healer he can think of, and indeed the only one he'd trust to look at Otem and tend to her the way she deserves to be tended to. Suddenly, there is a nicker in the background. The monolith immediately turns, his great bulk automatically placing itself between the stranger and his daughter, and his muscles slip subconsciously into battle mode. He's lost everything else, but at least he has not lost his ability to protect his family. When the newcomer ventures into his vision field, it causes him to drag in a sharp intake of breath. It is a mare, but like no mare he has ever seen before - her body is ruined by long spines, each one tipped with a glowing orb. She is....bizarre. She is of the Rift. And she is offering healing. Volterra's first instinct is to tell her to get the hell away from his daughter, not trusting for a minute that she won't do something dastardly to the tribrid yearling. But he tries to see sense, and allow Otem to choose for herself whether she will trust the mutated stranger - he steps aside, although his crimson gaze never leaves the spiked mare. "You are a healer?" he rumbles in question, his voice wary and his body tense. |
